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I dial the Dover Recovery Center and talk to a nurse there. I think she’s the one who was there the first day I’d gone in because she seems to recognize me.
“How is my brother doing?”
“He’s awake, woke up early this morning.”
“But how is he?”
She sighs. “The doctor is in with him now. Shall I ask him to call you after his meeting?”
“Yes. Please.” I give her the number of the landline and wonder where my purse is. Where my cell phone is. As I hang up and as if on cue, the doorbell rings. My heart races as I go to answer, not sure who I expect to find, but still surprised when a courier is standing there with a box.
“Priscilla Hawking?”
“Yes.”
“Sign here.”
Absently, I do. I then take the box and he leaves. Inside, I find my laptop, my purse, wallet. Nothing else though. I’m not sure what I expect there to be. What would there be? A fucking note?
I stand and decide instead of waiting for the doctor to call me, I’ll go see Jones myself. I’ll have to make some arrangements with them anyway. Neither Jones nor I can afford a place like that and I’ll assume they’ll want him out once they figure that out.
When I get outside, I realize my car must still be at Jones’s apartment. I grab a taxi and take it there, and find it in exactly the place I’d parked that night and soon, I’m outside the Dover Recovery Center. I head inside and decide to bypass the reception desk but as I take a few steps down the hall, I’m greeted by the same nurse as the first time Kill brought me here. She seems surprised to see me.
“Ms. Hawking?”
I stop. Turn. “Yes?”
“Didn’t Dr. Moore call you?”
“Oh, maybe.” I had given him the landline. “I’m here though and I’d like to see my brother.”
“Just a minute please. I’ll call the doctor to come talk with you.”
“What? Why?”
She looks almost embarrassed and a moment later, two men come around the corner discussing a file.
“Oh, there he is. Dr. Moore?” The nurse is visibly relieved.
I recognize the doctor and he recognizes me. He closes the file, excuses himself from the other man and heads toward us.
“Ms. Hawking, I left a message.”
“I didn’t get it. I’d left the house. What’s going on? Is Jones okay?”
“He’s fine. Let’s go into my office, shall we?”
“Where’s Jones?” I ask, refusing to budge until he tells me.
“He’s in the same room as last night and he’s with a nurse.”
“Okay.” I follow him into his office which is small but neat. I sit. “What’s going on?”
He takes a deep breath in. “Jones has finally opened up about things.”
I clear my throat, look away for a moment.
“I think it’s in his best interest if you give him some time to work through this.”
“Time?”
“Ms. Hawking, I think it’ll be damaging for him to see you right now. He feels quite protective of you, and at the same time…” he trails off as if searching for the words, but I don’t want to hear it. I can guess.
“He doesn’t want to see me?” I can’t push this. I don’t want to because in a way, I understand.
“His mental condition is…fragile. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but my priority is my patient. Please understand.”
“When then? How long until I can see him?”
“Give it a few weeks. I’ll stay in touch with you. Mr. Black has asked me to keep you apprised of Jones’s progress.”
My heart leaps at the mention of his name. The doctor clears his throat and opens a file.
“Mr. Black is providing for the best possible care, Ms. Hawking.”
“What do you mean?”
He looks confused. “I mean he’s hired the best doctors.”
“Jones and I, we can’t afford…”
He puts his hand up. “Mr. Black is taking care of the expenses.” He checks his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me?”
I rise. “You’ll call me…”
“Daily.”
I shake his extended hand, although I’m still uncertain.
“Thank you for understanding.”
I walk out of the building feeling deflated. It’s a blustery day, clear and windy, truly winter, and it looks like snow is coming. I get to my car, look back at the room I think is his with the big bay window. I’m tempted to go back inside and see him just once, but I understand what the doctor said. Why he said it. Jones needs time away from me. I’ve known it for a long time.
26
Cilla
The next four weeks creep slowly past without incident. I still haven’t seen Jones although his doctor does call me daily, as promised. Kill kept his word. I’m free from my contract. I half expected him—wanted him—to come back for me, to change his mind and forcefully take me back to Rockcliffe House, but he hasn’t. I haven’t seen him or anyone associated with him.
